What Once Was Broken
by Avery-Lou
Summary: Remus didn't bother telling her where he was going, or why. He just left, and Tonks had to pick herself up. Three days later, Remus showed up at her door. But what once was broken, time alone cannot mend. Set during DH. ONESHOT


…

**2 August, 1997  
4:00 AM**  
…

He would be back any time now.

He just needed some time to come to terms with… well, with everything.

And then he'd be back.

Any time now.

He'd be back.

Tonks glared at the front door as if daring it to stay closed.

"He'll be back."

She felt her mother's eyes on her from across the room and turned her defiant stare from the door to the aristocratic brunette with soap suds on her hands and dark, wet patches on her sleeves. Tonks knew perfectly well that her mother only washed dishes when she was stressed.

"He'll be back," she repeated, hotly, as though the dishes Andromeda had momentarily abandoned were trying to convince her otherwise.

"Of course he will."

Tonks couldn't help but notice the uncertainty in her mother's voice.

"He _will_," she seethed, pounding her fist on the table. A lock of hair fell into her eyes, and she swatted it away – then snatched it back just as quickly. _Brown_. Scowling, Tonks screwed up her face. A moment later, she felt her hair shift up and away from her scalp; a glance showed her a satisfying bubble-gum pink.

Andromeda gave a strained smile and turned back to the dishes. Tonks returned her glare to the front door, which stayed stubbornly closed.

…

**Three Hours Earlier  
(1:00 AM)**  
…

Tonks stood trembling in the entryway, her eyes on her parents, who sat huddled on the sofa in the sitting room. They'd been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse, and their faces were pinched and pale, but there would be no lasting damage. And, most importantly, they were _alive_. After a moment, Tonks tore her gaze away from them.

Remus stood by the front door, gripping the handle loosely. His shabby robes were more rumpled than ever, streaked with dirt and blood from the skirmish of a few hours ago. A fresh cut above his eye burned an angry red, his lip was cracked and bloody, and his cheekbone was already the shade of an overripe plum.

"Some wedding, huh?" she said cheekily, trying to inject some humor into the tense air. "At least no one crashed ours."

Remus showed no sign of having heard her; his golden eyes bored a hole in the floor a few inches from her shoe.

Tonks tried again. "I'm glad everyone got off okay. Other than looking like so many drunken brawlers, but hey! Every reception's got a few of those, haven't they?"

"You'll be safe here."

Remus' cold tone made Tonks' breath catch in her throat, but she chuckled and shuffled closer to her husband, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Of course we'll be safe here," she said. "They caught Mum by surprise tonight, but you can bet your arse it won't happen again. Mum's a bear when she's mad. I'd bet the Noseless Wonder himself could come to call and she'd drive him off."

The joke was meant to make him laugh, but he merely frowned at the lush, cream-colored carpet. Muddy tracks marked the path of the Death Eaters that had come and gone while Remus and Tonks faced interrogation at the Burrow.

Tonks sighed. "They'll be performing the Fidelius Charm in the morning," she said. "Charlie's agreed to be Secret Keeper. He knows we'll be staying here for a bit, and he all but begged my dad to let him help with the new defenses."

A fond smile tugged at her lips as she thought of her old school friend. An unlikely a pair they'd made at Hogwarts – he a roguish Gryffindor with a frightening penchant for dangerous creatures, she a klutzy Hufflepuff who longed to make Auror someday. All the professors wondered at how such opposites could have come together, but they'd gotten on smashingly. There was no one Tonks trusted more to keep her family safe.

"Good."

"What's _with_ you today?" Tonks teased, reaching up to sweep the graying brown hair away from his face. "You'd think we'd just been accosted by Death Eaters."

When Remus failed to react once more, Tonks felt a twinge of uneasiness, but she pushed it aside and wound her arms around her husband. His body was stiff under her fingers, every muscle taut as though ready to spring into action.

Sighing, Tonks leaned her head on his shoulder. "It's okay, Remus. It's over." Her hands slid up his back, over his cloak, through which she could feel his ribs and spine and the stony set of his shoulder blades, toward his neck. "We're fine. We're all alright. We'll be laughing about this in the morning – you'll see." She pulled him closer. "C'mon. It's been a long day. Let's get some sleep, hm?"

Remus broke away from her embrace.

"Remus?"

"I have to leave."

After a beat of silence, Tonks rolled her eyes. "What are you on about?"

"You heard me." His voice was low and rough with barely-concealed emotion. "I'm leaving."

"What—now?" Tonks scowled. "Don't be ridiculous. Everyone's lying low tonight. Resting, regrouping. I'm sure the Order will have a counterattack in the works soon. No point rushing off before then; you'll only get yourself killed." She spoke lightly, but when Remus merely heaved a sigh and opened the door, Tonks grabbed him roughly by the arm. "Don't be an idiot, Remus."

"It's for the best."

_SMACK!_

She couldn't help herself; she brought her open palm across his face. Remus always used that excuse, no matter what it was he wanted to get away with – running off on his foolhardy mission to infiltrate Fenrir's pack; refusing Tonks' every advance for almost a year; his idiotic reluctance to have children.

Tears threatened as Tonks remembered how he had taken _that_ bit of news. She'd thought he would forget his fears and reservations, as he had with their relationship. She'd thought he would be happy, once he got over the shock of it. But he hadn't. Ever since she'd told him she was pregnant, he'd become withdrawn, sullen, irritable. They'd hardly talked at all in the past few days.

Without a word, Remus turned and walked out.

…

**5:00 AM**  
…

Tonks had followed, of course. Out the door, down the steps, and all the way to the end of the long, hedge-lined path. She shouted the whole way – angrily at first, demanding he get back inside before the Death Eaters showed up, then in growing panic as his pace didn't slow. By the time he reached the front gate, she was hysterical, tears streaming down her face as she screamed out any curse or insult that came to mind in an attempt to startle some kind of response out of him.

But he continued on, never looking back, until he reached the statue that marked the edge of what few wards remained around the house.

He turned on the spot and Apparated away with a _crack_ that hit her like a Stunner, bringing her to her knees as the silence of the night closed in around her. Through her shuddering sobs, she felt her parents lead her inside and drape a blanket around her shoulders.

Sometime around three, she'd finally hiccoughed her way into silence and taken up post at the kitchen table, where she had a clear view of the front door. She ignored her parents' attempts to coax her into having some tea, or talking about what had happened, or heading up to bed. Even when her father finally succumbed to his exhaustion and disappeared into the bedroom, Tonks continued to glare at the door, waiting for her idiotic husband to return.

And then Andromeda had set to washing dishes.

"We'd best be off to bed as well," Andromeda said over an hour later, when at last there was nothing left to clean. Tonks checked her watch. Some distant corner of her mind recognized that Remus had now been gone nearly four hours.

She shook her head. "He'll be back soon."

"Nymphadora…"

Tonks scowled. "I'm not leaving this table until he's back."

Eyes fluttering shut, Andromeda drew in a deep breath. "Don't you think—"

"_'Night_, Mum," said Tonks pointedly.

For a long moment, the two women faced off, identical stubborn expressions plastered on their faces. Then Andromeda dropped her gaze and headed for the stairs.

Tonks remained where she was, glaring at the door as doubts pounded in her head. Time and again, she told herself that he would be back soon, that he only needed a bit of time to himself to think, to process the attack on Bill and Fleur's wedding, the fall of the Ministry, the unknown fate that awaited his wife and unborn child now that all-out war was surely on its way.

He would be back.

She fell asleep as the sun began to rise.

…

**9:00 AM**  
…

Tonks woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of voices. Male voices.

She lurched to her feet, ignoring the chair that toppled behind her with a crash, and sprinted for the sitting room. The voices halted abruptly as she threw open the door, searching for Remus' weary and remorseful face.

_He'd _better_ be sorry,_ she thought hotly as she surveyed the room. Andromeda sat in an armchair by the fireplace, looking exhausted but alert as she sipped her coffee and smiled at her daughter. In the center of the room stood Ted and Charlie, wands in hand.

Remus was nowhere to be seen.

"Good morning, Dora."

"Hey, Tonks."

Tonks stared at them uncomprehendingly, her groggy mind unable to process that Charlie Weasley was here and Remus Lupin, her _husband_, was not. Andromeda stood and crossed the room to guide Tonks to the loveseat, where both women sat heavily, watching the men as they grasped each other's hand.

"What're you doing?" Tonks yawned.

Charlie gave her a lopsided grin. "This is why people don't sleep at kitchen tables," he teased. "Makes you forget things."

Tonks stuck out her tongue. "Sod off, Weasley."

"Nymphadora!" Andromeda chided.

"I'm not a child, Mum."

Chuckling, Charlie told Tonks, "We're doing the Fidelius Charm today, remember?"

"_What?_" Tonks leaped to her feet – then swore as she banged her shin on the tea table. The others stared at her in confusion until, swallowing her pain, she turned her fiercest glare on them. "What about Remus?"

Confusion flitted across Charlie's face. "What do you mean?" he asked, glancing from Tonks to Ted to Andromeda, who had gone very still. "Isn't Remus – I thought he went home with you. Did something happen?"

Something within Tonks snapped. "Did something happen?" she snarled. "Did something _happen_? Of course something happened! He left!"

"W-what?"

"He left! —Get _off_, Mum!" She yanked her arm away from Andromeda's soothing touch. "That bloody bastard walked out of here last night! Couldn't even be bothered to tell me where he was going."

With a frown, Charlie pulled his hand out of Ted's grip. "You want me to go look for him?"

Tonks glared at him, and he held up his hands warily.

"Just asking." He sighed, running his hand through his ginger hair. "At the very least, we should wait for him to come back before we do the Fidelius."

"Why?" Andromeda asked, trying to guide Tonks back to the loveseat. She hastily backed off as Tonks rounded on her.

It was Ted who answered. "Dromeda, if we do the charm now, Remus won't be able to come back. He won't even be able to _see_ the house until Charlie's told him the location."

Andromeda's eyes widened in understanding. "We'll wait."

"No, you know what? Go ahead and do it." Tonks shook her head emphatically, catching a glimpse of her hair, which had gone crimson. "Serves him right!" She gestured for the two men to continue, but they merely stood there, staring at her as though she had grown a second head. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

Andromeda stepped forward nervously, although she thankfully did not try to make Tonks sit again. "Darling, this is Remus we're talking about."

"We can't just leave him out on the street," Ted added, his brow deeply furrowed. "He'll come back soon enough. A few hours won't hurt anything. If the Death Eaters haven't come back yet, they aren't likely to pop in for lunch."

Scowling, Tonks shook her head. "_No_. Do the charm. If he decides to come crawling back, he can deal with the Fidelius Charm himself, because I sure as hell won't be welcoming him with open arms."

This declaration was met with a long, stunned silence.

"Tonks…" Charlie ventured at last, cringing as she turned her glare on him. Swallowing, he pressed on. "I don't mean to pry, but… Is everything alright with you and Remus?"

"_Swell_," she said through clenched teeth. "Why?"

"You've just been acting strange – both of you." Charlie took a step towards her, holding his hands up and moving slowly as though dealing with one of his dragons. "The last couple of days, you two have been walking on eggshells around each other."

"Don't be ridiculous. We're fine."

Ted shook his head. "Don't deny it, Dora. Your mother and I have noticed the same thing. What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Tonks brushed past her mother and made a break for the kitchen, where she leaned heavily on the counter, fighting down her rising tide of frustration and bitterness. When her parents and Charlie appeared in the doorway, she turned away from them, flinging open cupboard after cupboard in a desperate attempt to look busy. Someone had made a plate of toast, she saw, and she snatched up a piece, tearing into it.

Still she felt three pairs of eyes on the back of her head, felt the electric current in the room. If she didn't know better, she would swear they were talking about her behind her back. Swallowing her mouthful of toast, she whirled around.

"_What?_"

Andromeda and Ted exchanged glances. "Sweetheart," said Andromeda gently. "I know you're upset now, but Remus is your _husband_. Don't do anything rash."

"Rash?" Tonks scoffed. "_Rash_. Rash is him walking out on me when he knows perfectly well that I'm—"

The words died in her throat. _That I'm pregnant_, she had been about to say, but she couldn't finish the thought. No one knew. Tonks hadn't had a chance to tell them yet; she herself had only found out a few days ago. She'd told Remus straight away, and he'd promptly locked himself in the bathroom. When Tonks finally managed to get him to talk, all he would say was that it had been a mistake. Tonks had figured they would talk about it, and Remus would come to his senses, and then the two of them could make the announcement. But the next day had been Harry's birthday, the next Bill and Fleur's wedding, and then Remus had left. There had been no talking, no coming to anyone's senses.

And now Tonks was standing alone with her very confused parents and best friend, who looked fit to burst with bafflement at Tonks' half-finished statement.

How could she tell them she was pregnant? How could she tell them, now that her husband was gone to Merlin-knew-where, gone forever for all Tonks knew, leaving her and their child alone?

She couldn't.

Hurling the unfinished slice of toast into the sink, Tonks fled the room, mounting the stairs three at a time and barricading herself in her room. A photograph of Remus and Tonks on their wedding day sat on the nightstand, their happy faces mocking her with their idiotic joy. She'd truly believed, as they said their vows in a secluded glen with only her parents, Mad-Eye, and some of the Weasleys for guests, that they would be together forever.

Remus had even told her time and again in the preceding year that she should give up on him, that she deserved better than him. That he would never be a husband or a father. She'd taken it as a long-buried fear, a propensity to build walls and protect himself from a world that despised people like him.

She'd never heard it for the warning it was.

In a fit of rage, she turned and hurled the frame against the far wall, where it shattered with a satisfying crunch before pattering down to the floor in a shimmering rain of broken glass.

…

**1:00 PM**  
…

Remus had been gone twelve hours.

This realization hit Tonks dully as she lay on the bed in the room her parents had made up for the newlyweds several weeks ago – "Just in case you ever need somewhere to hole up." Lying on Remus' side of the bed felt wrong, so Tonks had spent the past few hours staring at the empty pillow beside her, slowly coming to grips with the fact that Remus had left.

She was alone.

She was pregnant and alone, and she would have to raise her child without the man-who-would-never-be-a-father.

It was a terrifying thought, but as she watched the minute hand creep around the face of the alarm clock on the bedside table, near where the wedding photograph had been, she smothered her fear. So she would have to raise the child alone. She was strong; she was independent. She would adapt.

She would be the parent her baby needed, even if _some_ people were too great a coward to man up and accept their responsibilities.

As the day wore on, several knocks had sounded on her door – Andromeda, asking if Tonks was alright; Charlie, offering again to go look for Remus; Ted, bringing lunch, as he figured she wouldn't be up to eating with the rest of them. Tonks ignored them all and left the sandwiches, untouched, on the dresser where her father had put them.

The last visit had been just a few minutes ago.

"We can't wait any longer," Andromeda had said tremulously through the door that Tonks refused to open. "We're going to perform the charm now."

_Good_, Tonks thought stubbornly, though she remained silent until her mother's footsteps had faded down the corridor. _Should've done it ages ago. He's not coming back._

A spell as powerful as the Fidelius Charm always left its mark, and Tonks knew she would feel the moment the protection took hold. She lay still, waiting, hearing the steady tick of the clock and the chatter of birds outside her window. Then came a moment of silence; Tonks' hair stood on end. The air itself seemed to shimmer like a mirage, glaring like sun on snow, stinging Tonks' eyes until she squeezed them shut against the magical light.

A single tear rolled down her cheek.

The shimmer faded, Tonks wiped away the tear, and that was that. The Fidelius Charm was in place.

Remus wasn't coming back.

Tonks stood at once, checked her reflection in a hand mirror to ensure her hair was its usual bubblegum pink, and opened the door. The house was still and silent, the only sound the faint groan of floorboards under Tonks' feet. When she reached the sitting room, she found its occupants as pale and still as marble statues. Ted and Charlie still grasped each other's hands, and Andromeda, who stood in the corner, watching, caught sight of Tonks and burst into tears.

"Well," Tonks said cheerily, effectively capturing everyone's attention. "Now the Death Eaters are good and shut out, let's get on with our lives, shall we?"

…

Tonks knew her upbeat and carefree attitude following the Fidelius Ritual concerned her parents. She knew that, despite his promise to the contrary, Charlie would mount a search for Remus. She knew Andromeda had sent a Howler after the wayward werewolf, wherever he was, to let him know just what she thought about him leaving.

She knew that, sooner or later, she would have to tell everyone that she was pregnant.

She knew. She just didn't care.

Tonks threw herself into various odd jobs around the house. Andromeda wouldn't let her help with the cooking and cleaning (and Tonks herself had to admit she didn't have much to offer in that regard), so Tonks passed the afternoon outdoors with her father. The Fidelius Charm was strong, but Dumbledore's murder hovered over them like a shadow. They knew better than to trust anyone completely. Boundary charms, concealment spells, and wards went up one after another – just in case.

A few Order members got together that evening to discuss strategy – Molly and Arthur, representing the Weasley clan; Kinglsey Shacklebolt with a firsthand account of the fall of the Ministry; and a handful of other members who had been keeping tabs on the Death Eaters in the past day. Tonks almost expected Remus to be there, distant and closed as he had been last year.

He wasn't, but Charlie had obviously told his parents of his disappearance, and Molly fussed over Tonks incessantly as the meeting wore on. By the end of the evening, Tonks wanted to scream. With a quick goodbye, she made her escape. Once home, she let her parents know she had returned before going straight to bed.

The next day passed in much the same manner – busy-work and doggedly avoiding sympathetic gestures and kind words. Tonks managed to convince Kingsley to send her out on reconnaissance in Diagon Alley, where she was perhaps a bit more reckless than usual. Remus would have had a heart attack if he knew that she had deliberately picked a fight with a pair of Death Eaters she spotted coming out of Knockturn Alley.

But Remus wasn't there to dissuade her.

…

**5 August, 1997  
1:00 AM**  
…

Tonks had just begun to drift off when a jolt ran through her, jerking her back to consciousness. She was at the top of the stairs, wand in hand, before her mind caught up with the rest of her body and she realized what had happened.

Someone had crossed the boundary charms.

As far as she knew, her parents weren't expecting anyone – and indeed, when they joined her warily in the corridor, Andromeda was hastily belting her dressing gown, and Ted wore only a pair of shorts. Tonks herself still wore her jeans and tee shirt, as she had returned from the long day of Order work without enough energy or presence of mind to do anything more than throw herself face-down on the bed.

With a deep breath, Tonks fell back on her Auror training, gesturing for her parents to stay behind her. This could be a false alarm, she knew – while the Fidelius Charm extended only to the front steps, Tonks and her father had set the other wards, including the Boundary Charm that had sent up the alert, to cover the entire yard. It was entirely possible that a muggle had strayed into what would appear to them an empty lot. Or it could be an Order member, come to check in on them.

Or it could be Death Eaters, who knew where the Tonks house _should_ be, even if they couldn't see it anymore.

Tonks had to assume the latter. She ghosted across the sitting room to one of the windows facing the street and twitched the curtain aside. Beyond, she saw a lone figure standing by the garden bench in the diffuse orange glow of the streetlamp, and Tonks felt her breath catch in her throat.

_Remus_.

He stood, unmoving, his eyes straying from left to right, a look of such despondence on his face that Tonks almost wanted to fling herself into his arms right then. _Almost_. But she knew that the man in the garden might be a Death Eater in disguise, putting on an act to make her drop her guard.

As she watched, Remus' shoulders sagged, and he sank onto the bench, burying his face in his hands.

Tonks turned toward her parents, who watched her expectantly.

"Wait here," was all she could manage as she strode to the front door with more confidence than she felt. Pausing only to pull on some trainers, she stepped out onto the front steps and closed the door behind her.

Here again she stopped, staring at Remus' hunched form, mere feet from her and yet so far away - the Fidelius Charm, paired with the wounds his departure had inflicted, left a gaping chasm between them, a chasm that Tonks didn't know how to breach.

"Well," she murmured. "First things first." She raised her wand and took a moment to focus. "_Expecto Patronum_."

A silvery werewolf emerged from her wand and trotted directly to the man on the bench, putting Tonks' mind at ease. When Dumbledore had taught her to communicate via Patronus, he had explained that they would unerringly find their intended target. They couldn't be stopped by wards or fooled by disguises. The man sitting in her garden in the middle of the night was undoubtedly her husband.

Remus' head jerked up at the sight of the Patronus, the silvery light casting deep shadows across his face that made him look older than Tonks had ever seen him. Seconds ticked by as man and wolf stared unblinkingly at one another. The Patronus remained silent, for Tonks herself could find no words, much less form a coherent message to send out beyond the Fidelius Charm.

Something hardened in the man's eyes, and he stood, ignoring the gleaming wolf, and turned toward the house. His gaze fell on a spot some five yards to Tonks' left, and he squinted as though trying to focus on something that wasn't there.

At length, he cleared his throat. "Dora – Tonks… I—" He faltered, drawing in a shaky breath. "I know you probably hate me."

"Damn right I do," Tonks muttered, folding her arms and watching as the man continued to fumble for words.

"And I know you probably don't want me here, but I…" Once more he stopped, running a hand through his hair. "I need to talk to you."

An uncomfortable silence passed as his eyes turned, lighting upon her for a heart-stopping moment before moving on.

"Can… Can you come out here?" Remus asked tentatively. "Merlin, Dora, this is going to be hard enough. At least let me know I'm not speaking to empty air."

In response, Tonks waved her wand, conjuring a storm cloud above Remus' head, which promptly let loose a deluge of icy water. Remus yelped and danced back, but the cloud tracked his motions, and Tonks looked on with vindictive pleasure as her jinx chased him to and fro. At last he deflated, peering blindly in her direction as the water continued to drench him, plastering his hair to his forehead and turning his robes into a sodden mess.

Tonks' Patronus had vanished, so the only light came from the streetlamps. Remus' face was lost in shadow as he spoke in a voice that carried over the pattering of rain.

"I was wrong to leave," he said evenly. "I see that now. I was… I was scared. There are things – fears – that I've kept to myself." A pause. "I know I haven't any right to offer excuses, but _you_, Tonks… You deserve to understand, and I'll gladly tell you everything if you'll just give me the chance."

Tonks hesitated. Everything? Remus Lupin was not a man to bare his soul. He always held things inside, and even after more than two years of working alongside him in the Order, Tonks sometimes felt as though she had only ever caught fleeting glimpses of the real Remus. He'd told her of his missions, when Dumbledore didn't want them hushed-up. They'd spoken about Sirius, after his death, about how much he meant to both of them, and how great a hole he left in their lives. He'd confessed his love and his insecurities. But he rarely brought up the time before they'd met; she'd only heard of his Hogwarts days from Sirius. It was almost as though Remus had sprung into being two short years ago, scarred and weary and all but friendless.

Yet here he was, offering to help her understand him and his choices. His awful, selfish, idiotic choices. But did she want to hear it? After all the times she'd been hurt, did she still want to try to make this relationship work?

Eyes fluttering shut, Remus reached up to massage his temples. Tonks' rain still pelted him, though he could hardly get more drenched than he already was. "Then again, I'm sure the time for explanations is long past. If you don't want to hear me out – and Merlin knows you have every reason not to – then I'll go. I'll never bother you again, if that's what you want."

Still Tonks didn't move. She stood, transfixed, as she watched Remus' mask of composure crumble and fall, until she found herself looking at a man she had never seen so plainly. He was scared, yes – terrified. Haunted eyes stared back, not quite into hers, but near enough to make her shiver, and a look of utter despair and loneliness replaced the guarded stoicism she had grown so accustomed to.

"Very well," he whispered brokenly, turning away.

"No!" Tonks cried, taking the steps at a run. "Remus!"

He inhaled sharply and spun around, eyes wide.

"Don't go," Tonks whispered, stopping short before she could throw herself at him – all was not yet forgiven, after all, although that possibility was no longer looking so far out of reach. Abruptly realizing that Remus was still standing under a magical downpour, Tonks swore and muttered the counterjinx. "You could have used _Impervius_, you know," she muttered irritably.

"I think we both know I deserve worse than a cold shower."

A smile threatened, but Tonks willed it away. He wasn't getting off that easy. "You offered an explanation," she said instead.

The light went out of Remus' golden eyes, but he nodded. "I did."

Silence swelled around them, but Tonks dared not break it. She could see how hard this was for Remus, and she resolved to give him all the time he needed. After all, this might be the only chance Tonks would ever get to truly understand what went on inside that blasted skull of his, and she wasn't about to waste it.

"The reason I left," he began, only to hesitate. "That is to say, one of the reasons – there are several, and most them are completely inconsequential, which isn't to say that the _one_ is such a very good one, or that it excuses what I did, but—"

"_Remus_." Tonks stepped closer, gently touching his elbow. "Breathe."

He obeyed, then wet his lips and began again, his voice sharp with bitterness and guilt. "The reason I left, aside from the fact that I'm a fool and a coward, is that I was worried – scared. Scared for you."

Snorting, Tonks stepped back to give him a sour glare. "And what has that got to do with you leaving?" Remus opened his mouth, but Tonks jabbed her wand into his chest. "If you say one word about your condition, Remus, I swear to _Merlin_ I will hex you from here to Hogwarts."

"But—"

"_No_, Remus. We've been over this! I – don't – care. I don't care about your transformations. I don't care what people think about you, about me, about _us_."

Remus' brow furrowed. "You don't—"

"Yes, Remus, I _do _understand! I'm not afraid of being an outcast or looked down on or targeted by the Ministry and the Death Eaters. You know me better than that! I'm not ashamed to be seen with you, either, so don't even suggest it."

"Dora…"

She scowled. "I mean it! You want to know what embarrasses me? What I'm ashamed to tell people? That _you_ _left_. That you ran off, knowing I was pregnant. That you didn't just abandon _me_, but your own _child_! I mean, _Merlin_, Remus, how selfish can you get?"

"I know." He spoke in a small voice that stopped Tonks' fury in its tracks. "I know, Dora, and I'm sorry. I wish – I wish I could make it right. I'm sorry." His voice broke; his shoulders began to shake. "I'm sorry…"

Her anger drained away, leaving in its wake a gaping loneliness. She loved Remus, she truly did. But did he have to make it so difficult? Tears gathered in her eyes, and she had to take several deep breaths to banish them. She felt suddenly small and uncertain, as broken as the trembling man before her. _What's happened to us?_

Eventually, she took pity on him. "You still can," she said, reaching for his hands. He looked at her, and she met his eyes steadily. "You can still make this right. Just… help me understand."

For a second time, she fell silent, waiting for him to reach a decision, watching fear and shame and hope chase each other across his face as his tear-filled eyes searched hers – looking for what, she couldn't guess. All she knew was that Remus was still holding back. He did worry about her reputation, her future – _their_ future. He did harbor a maddening conviction that she must somehow be ashamed of his lycanthropy and, by extension, of him. He was terrified of hurting someone, Tonks especially, during the full moon.

This was something more.

"Alright," Remus said at last. "But I can't explain it properly with just words. I'll have to show you."

"A pensive?" she asked, but Remus shook his head.

"Something else."

Tonks understood that he meant to take her somewhere, so she nodded. "Give me a moment."

She turned and hurried up the front steps and into the house. At once, she spied her parents, who sat at the kitchen table, watching the door as she had done in the wake of Remus' departure. They stood and crossed to her, curiosity written on their faces.

Ignoring their unasked questions, Tonks grabbed a light cloak from the peg beside the door. "We'll be back soon."

"What?" Andromeda yelped. "Where—?"

"Floo Charlie, would you?" Tonks continued, as though her mother hadn't spoken.

Ted put a comforting arm around his wife and smiled at Tonks. "Of course."

Although Andromeda continued to spout protests, Tonks turned and walked back through the door, swinging the cloak around her shoulders as she stepped out into the night. Remus hadn't moved in the time she'd been gone, and his robes still dripped rainwater onto the flagstones. Tonks rolled her eyes.

"_Aresco_." With a flick of her wand, Tonks siphoned off the moisture from her husband's robes. "Honestly, Remus, if you spent half the time taking care of yourself that you do worrying about nonexistent threats to my safety…" She trailed off, unable to put her heart into scolding her husband when he looked so completely pitiful. Instead, she merely adjusted her cloak and grabbed his hand. "Ready when you are."

…

**1:30 AM**  
…

They appeared somewhere supremely dark and still, somewhere Tonks knew must be outdoors because of the chorusing insects and the occasional hooting owl. Overhead, she could see a scattering of stars and the crescent moon, half-hidden by dark shapes, but the light they gave was far too meager to reveal much of her surroundings.

Nevertheless, Tonks let her eyes adjust without lighting her wand, which she held warily in her right hand – her left still gripped Remus'. She could make out trees around her, dense and towering. A thick bed of leaves rustled under her feet.

A forest, then.

"_Hominem Revelio_," Tonks murmured, turning a slow circle. When the spell showed no others besides the two of them, she released the breath she'd been holding. "_Lumos_."

In the thin white light, Tonks could see nothing remarkable about the forest. Oak and elm and ash rose around them, and through the leaf-litter, Tonks could see scraggly plants covering the black earth. A creek gurgled somewhere nearby.

"Ravenshall Forest," Remus murmured, perhaps sensing the question lurking in the back of her mind. "I spent the greater portion of my childhood here – well, not _here_, precisely. I preferred the indoors. I loved to read, you know."

Tonks smiled at the thought of a younger Remus curled up in an armchair with – what? Schoolbooks? Auror novels? Perhaps a trashy romance? This last thought almost made her laugh aloud, but she bit down on her mirth and turned to Remus.

"Is that where we're headed?" she asked. "Your old house?"

"In a moment."

A shadow on his face gave Tonks pause, and she cast another glance around the forest. A nearby elm caught her eye, for several large gashes had been carved into the trunk, gleaming pale and sunken in the dimness.

"This is where I was bitten." Remus kept his voice level, his expression schooled, but Tonks' wandlight glimmered in eyes that stared into a world long past. "I wouldn't know where it happened, if not for that tree. Fenrir's first strike missed me by a few inches. The second…" He raised a hand absently to his shoulder, where the oldest and deepest of his scars lay.

Tonks squeezed his other hand, and he turned his gaze toward her. His eyes gradually came into focus, and he gave her a pained smile.

"I've never told anyone… You and I are likely the only ones who know of this place, of what it means."

"Will you tell me?" Tonks asked, almost afraid to push Remus too hard, but desperate to know, to understand. "Everything, I mean. The whole story?"

The distant look returned to Remus' eyes, but this time when he spoke, his voice quavered. "I was five. My father had been working on some new anti-werewolf legislation. He worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, you see – Beast Division. For the longest time, werewolves had been the sole jurisdiction of the Beast Division, but in recent years, the Office of Werewolf Affairs had been set up in the Being Division. It was chaotic, the two divisions constantly having to work over and around each other, and many people within the department wanted to relegate werewolves to one division or the other and have done with it. Of course, there was no small debate about _which_ division creatures such as myself truly belonged to. My father headed the Beast camp. Believed werewolves to be inhuman monsters that should be caged and… disposed of."

Tonks scowled and opened her mouth to protest, but Remus hastened on.

"I only learned all this much later, of course. At the time, I was just a boy whose father did important work which he didn't often discuss with me."

Remus turned and strode through the forest, leaving behind the scarred tree and the clearing where his childhood had died so long ago. He made as though to pull his hand from Tonks' grip, but she held fast. This seemed to startle Remus, who stared at their intertwined fingers for a long moment before resuming his story.

"Fenrir was, of course, angry about my father's project, and he tried to threaten my father into backing down. But my father was a proud man, and a stubborn one at that, and he refused to bend to such terror tactics.

"Soon, Fenrir's attention turned to my mother, and to me. My father was willing to risk his own life for his ideals, but perhaps he would be less bold when it came to his family." Remus made a small, disparaging noise in the back of his throat. "He took precautions, of course, sent my mother and I to her family's summer house in Scotland – here, I mean. To this remote forest, where he was certain Fenrir could never find us – and he arranged for Aurors to accompany us. But he forged ahead with his legislation."

They had come to the creek Tonks had heard before and now followed its path through the forest, pebbles crunching underfoot as the water lapped at their shoes. Wandlight skittered across the rippling surface like diamonds in a black cloth, and creatures fleeing their approach made tiny _plinks_ as they vanished under the surface.

Remus' eyes turned upward, to the silver crescent dancing in and out of sight amidst the canopy. "We had been here some weeks before my boredom became too great. The Aurors hardly let us out of the house, and I'm afraid I was something of a terror to my poor mother. She finally begged the Aurors to let us spend the afternoon in the yard. They argued against it – the full moon was that very night – but in the end, my mother prevailed.

"I must have slipped off at some point," he continued, his voice now a mere whisper. "I remember wanting to play hide-and-seek. It was great fun, I thought, to make my mother and the two grumpy men who never smiled and so rarely spoke – to make them all search for me. By the time I thought to end my little game, it was dark, and I had wandered much deeper into the forest than I had realized. I screamed myself hoarse, running blindly in hopes of finding my way home. Instead, I found Fenrir."

It was strange, hearing him speak about everything so calmly. She knew the facts, of course. She had since she had joined the Order of the Phoenix. Remus had been bitten as a child, by one Fenrir Greyback, the most infamous werewolf of them all, the only one worthy of the name monster. But to hear it like this, from Remus himself – through the eyes of the child who had endured the pain and disgrace…

Shivering, Tonks leaned into her husband's side, winding both hands into his robes. His arm went around her shoulder.

"I don't think I need to tell you what happened next," Remus said in the same steady voice. "Fenrir attacked, I was turned, and my life was forever changed."

They reached the edge of the forest, and stopped at the tree line, staring at the small, dark house whose windows were dead eyes watching them from across the distance. Remus seemed transfixed by the sight, and Tonks wondered what other memories it stirred up in him.

"It must have caused a scandal in the Ministry. Me, the son of the man who spearheaded the anti-werewolf coalition, now a werewolf myself." Remus let out a cold chuckle. "I'm sure Fenrir believed it would put an end to the legislation, that my father would finally relent."

"Didn't he?" Tonks asked, leaning back to look into his face.

The answer was clear in his stormy eyes. "He and my mother… disagreed. Vehemently. Their argument was one of the first things I heard upon waking in St. Mungo's after the attack. His views hadn't changed in light of my condition. Werewolves were and always would be monsters. As far as he was concerned, Fenrir had murdered his son, and I was nothing but an animal that ought to be put down before I became a danger to others."

"No!"

A pained smile twisted at his lips. "I have tried, since then, to forget his words. I have done my best to listen to the good and kind people in this world who, like my mother, saw past my illness. People like James and Lily, like Sirius and Dumbledore. Like you. I _have_ tried to live beyond my curse, to think of myself as a man and not as a monster. But the first wounds cut the deepest, and a father's hatred is not easy to dismiss."

"Oh, Remus…" Tonks breathed, her vision blurring. As Remus gazed back at her, she saw tears mounting in his eyes, as well. She pulled him into an embrace, feeling the old tension in his stance, the way his every muscle seemed to push her away, as though he accepted her gesture with only very great restraint.

For the first time, though, Tonks understood his reluctance, and she held him all the closer for it, hoping her touch could speak what she could not put into words – that he was loved, without reservation, in spite of his past and all the more because of what he had suffered. That while she did not, _could _not, understand everything that he struggled with, she understood enough to know how much he needed her, and how much that need frightened him.

They stayed like that for long minutes before Remus pulled away. "Inside," he said, seeming not to trust himself to say more.

Wind tossed their hair and cloaks as they crossed a yard overgrown with weeds. A trowel and a pair of work gloves lay abandoned in the shadow of a low brick wall that might once have enclosed a flowerbed or raised garden. The door swung inward on rusty hinges, and Remus led Tonks into the house, where everything – the floor, the furniture, the dishes stacked in the sink – lay beneath a copious layer of dust.

Remus pulled her gently down the corridor, past the cluttered kitchen, past a set of stairs leading up into darkness, past a hall closet standing ajar. "After my father left," he said, "my mother and I came back here to live. With her help, I… managed my transformations for the next six years – six miserable years before Dumbledore came to tell me I had been accepted to Hogwarts."

"Managed?" Tonks asked, though she dreaded the answer.

Remus shook his head. "My last great secret," he said ruefully. "Only my mother and I knew what full moons were for me back then. Dumbledore may have guessed, but I'm not sure even he quite realized the truth."

They entered a cozy sitting room, where a couch and two armchairs sat clustered around a tea table stacked with books. Frames lined the mantelpiece, but the glass was so dirty that Tonks couldn't make out the photographs within. A jar of Floo powder had fallen and smashed on the hearth. Wind rattled the windows that looked out on a gravel drive lined with shrubs and small owl statues.

Remus crossed at once to a heavy oak door on the far wall. A lock clicked as soon as he touched the knob, and it opened onto a steep wooden staircase. "We had to put a charm on the door so only my mother and I could open it," he explained. "_Lumos_."

The light of his wand joined hers, and she could see another door, this one of iron with a heavy crossbar and several locks, at the bottom of the stairs.

"Why?" she asked, following Remus' descent.

"James and Sirius," he said softly. "They knew I transformed in the cellar when not at Hogwarts, and they were… curious. They kept trying to sneak down there, even after I told them to leave it."

"I'm sure they just wanted to understand," Tonks said. _Merlin knows that's why I'm here._

Remus didn't respond right away, but silently removed the bar from the door and undid the other locks. He stopped with his hand on the knob.

"I know. They only ever wanted to take my burden on themselves." He smiled sadly. "I was – _am_ – grateful for all they did. I just… wasn't ready to show them. They knew the aftermath of the transformations, and from our fifth year, they spent the full moon with me, so they knew more than anyone what I went through. And yet…"

With a sigh, Remus tightened his grip on the doorknob and shook his head. "Things were better when I was with them. They thought they had seen the horrors of lycanthropy, but in truth, they had only scratched the surface. I didn't have the heart to tell them that what they saw was nothing to what I went through in my childhood."

"What do you mean?"

Remus merely closed his eyes and turned the doorknob. With a rumbling, grinding noise, the door scraped across the stone floor of the cellar, stuck once, then yielded to Remus' shove and swung wide.

Tonks stepped through and found herself standing in a low-ceilinged room whose stone walls were bare, save a single, crooked shelf to her right. Small windows were cut high in the wall, but cobwebs and grime covered the glass such that they wouldn't have permitted any light in even if the moon had been full. The chill and the odor of mildew reminded Tonks of the dungeons at Hogwarts and she pulled her cloak more tightly around her shoulders.

In the weak light of the wands, Tonks could see nothing remarkable about the cellar, and she opened her mouth to say as much— only to snap it shut as she spotted the far wall.

What she had taken for deeper shadow or a section of darker stone, she realized with a jolt, was actually blood. Old, dry blood that blackened wide swaths of floor. Long, parallel gouges marred the wall and floor, like the elm in the forest that bore Fenrir's scars. In places, she could see the shape of a child's hand among the bloodstains. Tonks stepped forward, raising her hand to touch one of the small, smeared handprints, but drew back as she kicked something hard and heavy, something that rattled against the stone.

It was a chain, no more than a yard long, as thick as her wrist, that ended in a heavy iron manacle.

Tonks stumbled back, her hand flying to her mouth, and whirled around. Remus stood in the doorway, watching her intently.

"Remus…" She broke off weakly, merely gazing at him. _She chained you up?_

Remus seemed to understand. "I would have attacked her otherwise," he said, no longer feigning composure. He drew in a shaky breath and held it for a moment as he blinked furiously. "She hated to do it, but we couldn't give the wolf any chance to escape." He paused, looking past Tonks to the chain. "She was brilliant at mending broken bones, my mum."

In a few quick strides, Tonks reached Remus' side and tried to drag him away from the cellar, but he resisted her pull.

"I'm scared, Dora," he whispered as the first tear rolled down his cheek. "Terrified. I – I don't want this for our child."

He leaned into her then, trembling, and Tonks felt as though suddenly everything made sense. _I can't ever be a father_, he'd said. _It was a mistake_. All his fears, all his reservations… Standing here in the blood-soaked dungeon where he had spent six years' full moons chained up to protect the only person in the world who cared for him, those fears felt more real than Tonks could ever have imagined.

Tracing the scars that lined his face, Tonks tried to picture him as a little boy, frightened and bleeding and trapped in this cold, dark, dismal prison. How she ever could have thought him a coward was beyond her. He was so brave, so incredibly strong – to bear the scars he did and still be the kind and gentle man with whom she had fallen so hopelessly in love.

Giving Remus a small smile, Tonks wiped the tear from his cheek. "Things are better now," she said. "We have the Wolfsbane potion, so… so even if the baby _is_ a werewolf, we'll never have to chain him up. He won't bite and scratch himself like you did."

Tonks' words did not bring the relief she hoped they would; Remus screwed his eyes shut as though in pain and shook his head.

"You don't understand, Dora. I—" He drew in a shuddering breath. "The potion helps a great deal, it's true, and Merlin knows I haven't any right to complain, but the potion doesn't fix everything. I've gotten used to the pain of transforming, but for a child – a mere infant—!" He had to stop here to calm himself, and when he continued, his voice sounded as jagged as broken glass.

"When I first transformed at five years old, I was among the youngest werewolves the Ministry had ever seen. I wasn't the youngest to be bitten, by any means, or even the youngest to survive the attack. But that I survived my first transformation, at that age, was nothing short of a miracle. I was restrained and heavily sedated so that I wouldn't bite myself and bleed out before morning, but the transformation itself was quite enough. The trauma of my body tearing itself apart twice in one night nearly killed me."

He opened his eyes and met Tonks' with obvious difficulty. "And if it nearly killed me, Dora, what chance does a newborn stand? If our child is – is like me, then I have condemned it to a short and hideously painful life."

"Be that as it may," she said firmly, though she had to fight a shudder at the thought of watching her baby die, "you're forgetting that we have no reason to believe the baby will be a werewolf."

"But if it _is_," argued Remus, a note of hysteria creeping into his voice. "If the baby _is_ a werewolf, what if – what if—?"

"What if _what_, Remus?" Tonks urged, holding his gaze. "Just tell me." _What is it that so scared you that couldn't bear to face me the last three days?_

Remus seemed transfixed, unable to look away from her as he spoke. "What if the first transformation comes before you give birth?" he whispered, desperation and helplessness lacing his voice. "I… I can't lose you, Dora. I've watched so many of my friends die already. If I had to watch you die, too, it – it would destroy me."

"I'm not going to die, Remus."

"But—"

"I'm _not._" She drew back to fix Remus with her fiercest look, hands on her hips and head held high. "Let's say the baby's a werewolf— which I'm still not convinced is true. So what? If I'm going to die, I'm dying in battle, not because of a rough pregnancy. After everything I've faced, do you honestly think I'm going to let little Remus Jr. do me in? His father hasn't even managed that, and Merlin knows it's not for lack of trying.

"And _if_ I have a little baby werewolf inside me right now," she went on, jabbing Remus in the chest to emphasize her words, "and _if_ I somehow get bitten – well, then, at least you won't have to spend the full moons alone any longer. I love you, Remus, with all my heart, and I would face Fenrir Greyback himself if that's what it took for us to be together."

Surprise and affection – and the tiniest spark of hope – shone in Remus' eyes. "Truly?"

"Truly," she said. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Nor I. Never again."

The words washed over Tonks like a summer's breeze, and she couldn't fight the smile that tugged at her lips. "Whatever happens?" she asked.

"Whatever happens. If my fears come to pass…" A shudder ran through him, but he squared his shoulders and gazed into her eyes. "Then I'll at least make the most of the time we have left, and if I prove to be as baselessly pessimistic as I usually am—" He smiled suddenly, and Tonks couldn't help but laugh— "then nothing, _nothing_, will tear me away from my family again."

With a sound that was half laugh, half sob, Tonks flung her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his, her heart soaring in her chest, and Remus returned the kiss in earnest. For once the tension had left his weary frame, and he held Tonks tightly to himself as though to make up for the time they had been apart. Feeling lighter than she had in days, Tonks giggled into the kiss and whispered giddily, "We're having a baby!"

Laughter danced in his eyes as he kissed her again. "You'll make a splendid mother."

"And you'll be a brilliant father."

"You think so?"

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Of course! Who wouldn't want you for a dad?"

"Even though I'm a—?"

She kissed him again, and the words he'd been about to say vanished with a small, surprised sound. "No more of that, now," she teased, pulling away only slightly. She could still feel his breath on her lips as he blinked at her, confused.

"No more of what?" he asked.

"Calling yourself a you-know-what."

He raised an eyebrow. "A werew—?"

Another kiss was his only answer.

"Dora," he said, amusement evident in his voice. "Don't you think this might possibly cause some troubles down the line – seeing as I _am_ a w—" Another kiss, and he laughed— "I am one?"

"Well, I guess it all depends," said Tonks.

"On what?"

She grinned. "On you. I know what your father did hurt you, Remus, and I know wounds like that don't heal overnight… But that doesn't mean I have to stand by and listen to you do a hatchet job on yourself. You're no monster. You're a brave, kind, clever, beautiful, _wonderful_ man, and if I have to remind you of that every time you start to think otherwise, then that's exactly what I'll do."

"You mean that?"

"Every word."

…

**2:30 AM**  
…

As soon as they Apparated back to Ted and Andromeda's house, the front door burst open to reveal Charlie Weasley, wide-eyed and battle-ready. Tonks could see her parents hovering just behind him, both grasping their wands.

"Who's there?" Charlie called, catching sight of Remus and Tonks at the edge of the yard.

Tonks raised one hand in a cheerful wave, but kept the other wrapped securely around Remus' waist. "Get your arse out here, Charles Weasley! You've got something to tell my husband!"

Remus laughed.

"Okay, okay," said Charlie. "We've just got to make sure it's you."

"Because you've let so many Death Eaters in on the Fidelius Charm," she said sarcastically, ignoring the odd look Remus gave her and sticking her tongue out at Charlie. "I feel so safe now."

Ted gave an amused snort, but Charlie merely sighed. "You _know_ how this works, Tonks."

"Yeah, yeah." Tonks waved her hand dismissively. "We met in the Hospital Wing third year. You'd tried to give a Salamander a hug or some such—"

"I was trying to keep it from escaping!" Charlie argued, flushing. "It could have started a forest fire! Besides, I seem to remember you tripped into a bed of Fanged Geraniums during Herbology and wound up with – what was it? Fifty seven bites?"

Tonks felt her face flame and glared at Charlie, glad that Remus couldn't hear his half of the conversation. "Stuff it, Weasley."

He chuckled. "Well, in any case, you're obviously you. What about Remus?"

Tonks put on a thoughtful look, then turned and kissed Remus full on the mouth. The man started, but then he relaxed into her, returning the kiss for a long, blissful moment before drawing back. He sent a nervous glance in the general direction of the house, but Tonks could see that both her parents were beaming. Charlie whistled.

"They needed proof of your identity," Tonks said simply.

"And that proof was—?"

"Snogging, yes." Tonks smirked. "It works for me."

Evidently, it worked for Charlie, too, for he hurried down the front steps and clapped Remus on the shoulder, smiling warmly. He handed Remus a small piece of paper, which the werewolf read and then lit on fire with a tap of his wand. "Let's head in, shall we?" said Charlie. "We can talk there."

Remus nodded, and together he and Tonks followed Charlie back to the house. Once inside, Andromeda pulled Remus into an embrace, while Ted settled for a hearty handshake. The five of them then gathered in the sitting room, and an uncomfortable silence descended on them.

"I've been to see Harry," said Remus abruptly. "He and Ron and Hermione are safe, for the time being."

Charlie let out a long breath. "That's a relief." He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled. "Mum was going mad with worry. I'll be sure to let everyone know – it's about time I got going, anyway." He glanced around at the others, giving Remus a particularly bracing smile. "Good to have you back, Remus."

With a nod, Remus returned Charlie's smile, and then the redhead walked to the fireplace and disappeared in a flash of emerald flame.

The silence returned.

"So," said Tonks slowly. "Harry?"

Remus shrugged. "There are very few remaining people in this world that I care for, and Harry is second only to you. I figured that after… after what I did—" _After you convinced yourself that our baby was going to kill me_, Tonks supplied silently— "that I ought to at least go and do what I could for him."

Andromeda nodded sympathetically. "Of course you did," she said, reaching out to place a hand on Remus' arm. "No one could fault you for that."

"I take it Harry refused your offer?" asked Ted with a twinkle in his eye.

Chuckling, Remus nodded. "He told me in no uncertain terms that I belonged here." He smiled at Tonks, who gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. "And he was right."

Tonks beamed. "Remind me to thank him, then. Maybe we should make him— Oh!" She turned to her parents, who fixed her with confused looks as she positively buzzed with excitement. "Mum, Dad! Remus and I have something to tell you!"

"What are you—?" Remus cut off with a choking noise, his eyes going wide. "You haven't told them?"

She gave him a light punch in the arm. "Of course not! Not without you." They shared a smile, a lingering kiss, and then, fingers entwined, they turned together to face Ted and Andromeda. Tonks took a deep breath, blinked back tears of joy, and said, "Mum, Dad… I'm pregnant."


End file.
